


Like Funhouse Mirrors

by Kaza999



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Concept Art Solas, Gen, c'mon guys LET'S BE FRIENDS, sera and solas' magical art adventure, sera is a secret artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaza999/pseuds/Kaza999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a well-known fact that Solas is the resident artist of the Inquisition.  What is less of a well-known fact is that Sera is one as well.  </p>
<p>Response to a kmeme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Funhouse Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15866.html?thread=59735290#t59735290
> 
> "I really, really, just want anything with Solas and Sera interacting when it comes to art. Sera consistently doodles all over reports and mission papers ("Piss, I can't draw saddles!") and obviously we see Solas endeavors when it comes to the murals in the rotunda. Is there (mildly platonic) bonding over their shared interest? Does Sera graffiti something on Solas' desk? Is it an AU where Solas teaches art? I don't care. Just gimme the elves, discussing/arguing over artsy things!
> 
> Squicks: No Solas/Sera romance, or really, romance in general, unless it's background Solavellan or Sera/F!LI. No unfaithfulness, though that ties into the anti Solas/Sera romance, no gore and would prefer this to be on the light-hearted side."
> 
> This prompt really got away from me--I got the idea into my head that Sera is a secret artist and it stuck.

i.

Solas and Sera both drew on their reports. 

From both of them would come pages and pages bound together into one report, but half of the damn thing would be just drawings. Sera's would come soaked in beer, torn and ripped pierced with holes, and one would be lucky if they were organized in any sequential way. Solas', fortunately, would be carefully put into a correct order, but most of the pages would be spattered with spilled paints and inks and smudged in charcoal. 

Sera consistently drew in the margins of her reports when she got bored, or supplied little pictionaries when she couldn't spell a word, or seemingly forgot what she was doing and just drew all over the paper she was using, rendering it almost unreadable. She sometimes drew crude comics when she got sick of writing, energetic images that showed a particularly interesting event or illustrated something she thought was funny. Highly amusing, very difficult to get any effective information from. 

One would think that the more academic Solas would be better (especially since he was primarily a painter and one would assume him a bit less prone to sketch artistry), but as a matter of fact he was much worse. He would use the paper as an impromptu sketchpad, elaborate portraits and scenes almost obscuring the letters. Sometimes attached to his reports would come images of places he had been or magics he had seen performed—quite lovely, really, but not meaning much to anyone but Solas. 

If one was forced to compare the two, one would have to say that despite Sera's crude sense of humor and somewhat amateur style, she had a better handle on how to communicate a sequence of events in images than Solas did. Solas' drawings didn't often connect directly to the things mentioned in his reports, as the images would be disconnected and surreal. Sera's made more sense, after a fashion, but it was still _Sera_ , after all. 

The point was, the two of them drew on everything, and it was beginning to get annoying. 

ii.

Sera had absconded with Solas' sketchbooks. 

There were five that were all filled up ( _five!_ ), and one just halfway filled, and they were all right pretty and everything. 

His Elfiness was a prick and a half, and did way too much weird magic shite, and was no fun at all, but he could draw. She saw that every time she went near his weird little study under the library—the minute they'd set up in Skyhold, he's started painting on the walls. That was pretty, too, though she'd never admit it to anyone. 

It wasn't like she _cared_ much or anything—lots of people could draw, it wasn't as if he'd _invented_ it. She'd just heard Cullen complaining really loudly about how trying to read Solas' reports was a pain, which was kind of hilarious actually, because most of the time it was just Sera who got all the complaints, and she'd wanted to see what all the fuss was about. 

So, she'd snagged one of the reports off of Cullen's desk. It did indeed have drawings all over it, weird sketches of places and people and a lot of wolves. The only problem was, it was a bit hard to see all the drawings under all the writing, so she'd replaced the report, 'cos it was boring, and when Solas left with Inky, Sera went to find his sketchbook.

She'd figured that since he painted, he'd need to sketch the paintings first, and she was right. After a bit of searching his office, she'd found a box with all his sketchbooks in it, and had taken them. 

(she also knew he had one because _she_ had one, under a floorboard in her room, and if she had one she knew that he, Messere 'I'm so confident I paint on the bloody walls' _had_ to have one.) 

They'd only been in Skyhold for a few months and he'd already filled up five of them! Sera supposed it helped that when he drew, he drew _big_ , everything enormous and impressive and all that rot. 

They were pretty, like the paintings in his office-thing. He'd snagged pastels from somewhere and used watercolors too, and the sketchbooks were all bursts of riotous color and life she'd never thought that dreary Fade-pants could be capable of. 

There were pictures of Skyhold in the books, and the Hinterlands and Emprise du Lion too, and the Emerald Graves, and portraits also, some detailed and realistic, some more like the style of his paintings. Pictures of random people about Skyhold, pictures of other members of the Inquisition—she was surprised to find herself in there a few times, mostly making goofy faces. 

There was elfy stuff in there too, elves in fancy armor and pictures of the elvhen ruins they'd come across, but all nice and shiny and new. To her disgust, there was a picture of her in some of the elfy armor and with an elfy bow—she'd just about thrown the book across the room at that one. 

She hadn't done anything bad to the sketchbooks, though. Treated them as nice as any of the special books in the library, held them like they were glass. She didn't want to mess with them, she just wanted to see. 

It wasn't like she was Solas' best friend or anything all of a sudden, it was just that every time the thought of doing something bad to the books crossed her mind, she got that sort of... _twisty_ feeling in her gut, like it would be a bad idea. A _really_ bad idea, not something fun or funny. She kept thinking of her own sketchbook, in its hideaway under the floor, and the idea of anything happening to it just about made her sick. So, Solas' sketchbooks were safe in her care. 

She even gave them back before he returned, so he'd never know they were gone, put them in the same place and everything. 

 

Solas returned from Crestwood with the Inquisitor. He felt waterlogged and more miserable than usual, his head aching after he, the Inquisitor, Cole and Cassandra had dealt with the mess in Crestwood. Even two weeks later he was still angry and irritated that the entire thing had taken place at all, and the poor weather coming back to Skyhold hadn't helped matters any. 

He'd just wanted to lock himself in his room and _sleep_. Admittedly, that wasn't much of a change of pace, but the feeling was particularly intense. 

However, he needed to go to his study first, go through it and make sure all was well. All was _not_ well, as he found that his study had been disturbed. Not greatly, but more than the usual movements of servants and soldiers going in and out of it. Someone had been through the books under his desk. 

He frowned to himself, pulling out the box that he kept his sketchbooks in—they were in the right order, but he could tell someone had been at them. Others would not have noticed anything different, but he did. Slight smudges where there hadn't been any before, a paper out of place here, a stray mark there. Someone had been rifling through his drawings. 

He scowled and tucked the box of books under his arm, taking it with him, out of the study. He intended to put a detection or a trap rune on it, or perhaps both.

He eventually settled on a simple detection spell, and after he had spelled the box, he replaced it. He was quite curious as to who exactly wanted to know so much about his unfinished drawings.

 

Sera growled to herself and crumpled up her paper, then threw it across the room. She curled her fingers in her hair, tugging at it in frustration.

It just wouldn't. Come. _Right._

She kicked out her feet and stood up, shoving her sketchbook to the floor. She didn't know why she bothered. She should just stick to doing stupid doodles, it was what she was good at. 

She'd been trying to do different stuff, serious stuff, pretty stuff, for weeks now, and it never worked. She wasn't even _trying_ to be serious or anything, not really, she just wanted to see if she could and—she kind of wanted something nice to give to Dagna. Apart from arrows and weird weapons to work on. 

The stray thought crossed her mind— _Solas_ could show her how to make pretty drawings. 

She growled again, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. Like she'd ever go to _him_ for anything, stupid snotty elfy magey...arse. 

Elfy arse who knew how to draw things. And paint things. 

She kicked a crate on the ground and then swore loudly, clutching her foot. 

She glared at her sketchbook, lying on the ground. Stupid thing. She should throw it in a gutter, she should. She picked it up and dusted it off and laid it carefully on the windowseat instead. 

She started to pace again. She couldn't just forget about it—her mind wouldn't leave it alone now, it just buzzed in her ear all the time, she had all these pictures in her head, weird and wonderful and fantastic, but on paper they wouldn't _work_. It just wouldn't come right. 

She blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She should go downstairs, get drunk with the Chargers. That'd cheer her right up—maybe make things make a bit more sense to her. Who knows, maybe she'd even figure out the way to get all those amazing pictures out of her head and onto some paper. 

She didn't, however. 

No, because her brain was being _stupid_ and the pictures in her head wanted out and she was stupid she decided to sneak on over to Solas' stupid weird round study and sneak a look at his sketches again, because maybe if she could figure out how stupid him did it she could get a better grip on how to do it herself. 

Stupid. 

 

Solas really had no idea who it was that was so interested in his sketches, but if he had been forced to make a guess, he would not have guessed it to be Sera. 

He'd been down in the kitchens when his detection rune had gone off, and he'd found her attempting to scamper out across the battlements. She'd made off with one of his books, the one only half-filled. 

He had taken her arm and dragged her and the sketchbook back to the rotunda, quite determined to explain in great detail that the sketchbooks were absolutely off limits. So now there they were, Sera sat in a chair, Solas leaning against his desk, arms folded, the tips of his ears flushed. 

He was _not_ happy. 

“There are a number of things I will allow,” he said. “Using my personal sketchbooks for your juvenile pranks is _not_ one of them.”

Sera looked away, scowling. 

“That is not meant as a challenge, incidentally,” he added. “This is not something for you to take lightly.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Here we go, all serious and whatever, fine, I'll leave it alone--”

She got to her feet, and Solas pushed her back down into her chair.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I am positive you will leave my things alone.”

“I said fine!” she snapped. “Whatever, I'll leave it, come on--”

“What could you possibly be doing with my books anyway?” he said. “I know you also took them the first time—what is so fascinating about them to you?”

She snorted. “Uh, who says I took any of your other books?”

“The fact that you took this one,” he held up the one she had attempted to make off with. “And someone else was looking through them while I was away with the Inquisitor.”

Sera leaned back in her chair. “Fine, I was lookin' at them!” she exclaimed, raising her hands. “Not a crime, is it?” 

“If you wished to see them, I prefer you _ask_ ,” he said. “I would have shown them to you.”

She sat up straight. “What?”

“I would have shown them to you, if you really wished to see.” he put the book back on the desk. “I most likely would assume that you were attempting some variety of joke, but since I usually sketch a great deal anyway, it would not matter.”

“...oh.”

He looked at her. “Why? _Do_ you wish to see them, or do you merely enjoy stealing things?”

“I...uh...” she kicked her legs out, suddenly looking... _shy_. 

Sera was many things, but she was _not_ shy. He tilted his head to one side. 

“Who says I wanna see your stupid drawings!” she snapped eventually. “They're all—weird and elfy, anyway!” she blushed. “They're...boring!” she continued. “Everything all stands still—like you en't put any life into them! They don't tell stories or anythin'--they're stupid, like you, and I don't care. I _don't_. And your colors all go...funny together anyway. Like you never even heard of purple before.”

Solas raised his eyebrows. “Spoken like a fellow artist,” he commented lightly. “Somewhat.” 

She went very red. 

He took a chair, and sat down in front of her. “It's hard to find purple pigments,” he said. “And I've never liked the color much, anyway.”

She snorted. “Ugh. You need more purple—make everythin' brighter, it would.”

He shrugged. “Now—what is it you mean about nothing having any life in it?”

“Well--” she paused, then looked at him suspiciously. “You're gonna make it weird.”

“I am always open to criticism.”

“You think I'm stupid. Why would you care what I say?”

“You are not stupid,” he informed her. “Very childish, crude, and scatterbrained, but not stupid.”

She blinked. “Oh. Well...wait, I won't say thanks, you'll get a big head about it. You have a huge head already.”

He sighed. “So I've been told.”

“'Cos it's true.”

“Do you sketch at all?” he asked her. “Or paint?”

She shook her head. “I don't paint.” she made a face at the frescoes on the opposite wall. “Ugh—sticky and all...wet. Ugh. Drippy.”

“I was under the impression that you approved of that sort of thing.” he said, and couldn't help a smirk. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Ew, no—oh!” she cackled. “Oh, right! No, no I don't. Not with paints.” 

“You said my sketches don't tell a story,” he said, remembering her words. “But many of them do." he nodded towards his frescoes. "And my finished works _certainly_ do."

Sera groaned. “Ugh, no, not _that_ kind of story, in one picture!” she said. “Like—you ever seen one picture, and that has a part in it, and then the next one has another one?”

Solas hummed. “I...believe I know what you are speaking of.”

“That's the best kind.”

“All art is subjective.”

“Nope. That's the best.” 

“Perhaps you could show me some of your own work, and we could compare notes,” he suggested.

“Ugh, no! Show Mister 'I'm better than everyone' my--? No! You'd get all elfy and weird over it. No!”

“If you wish,” he said. “ _I_ will not go rooting around in your space, looking through your personal items.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, get over that!” 

“Why is it that you are so curious over my unfinished works?” he asked. “I still do not have your answer. You really could have asked me. Or, if you did not wish to ask, perhaps you could have looked at something actually completed in my preferred medium,” again, he gestured in the direction of the frescoes. “Something that does not require looking through my things to find.”

Sera fidgeted. She rubbed the back of her head, and tapped her feet. “I just—I dunno. Thought it could be...helpful. And not weird, like talkin' to you is. 'Cos it is. Weird.”

“Helpful?”

She hunched her shoulders. “I dunno.”

“And were they?”

“Dunno. Pretty, though,” she admitted, and now her blush spread to her ears. “I mean--”

He smiled. “Yes, when they were not 'elfy,' or 'weird,' I am sure.” 

“Yeah.”

“Well...” he leaned back in his seat. “You may not steal any of my sketches. I would be pleased to show them to you, should you ask. And if you wish to learn something...”

Sera blew a raspberry. “Sure won't ask you,” she said. 

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes at her. “I would like to see your work sometime.”

“Pff, yeah right,” she said. “It en't _work_ —it's just...a thing I do. And I bet you wouldn't like it.”

“Perhaps I would. Perhaps I may even find things about it to like, just to spite you. You do not know." He got to his feet. “So, you will not steal any more of my belongings?”

“I dunno,” she said, getting up as well. “Maybe your breeches.”

“What could you possibly want with those?” he paused. “Disregard that, I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment.”

“Fine, I dunno, maybe I'll take one of your sweaters then—keep you on your toes, like!”

He shooed her out of his office, and she sprinted off, back to her tavern room.

That hadn't been so bad, for a talk with Solas. 

 

Several days later, Solas found a few stray papers on his desk, drawings made out in heavy black charcoal on them. An energetic and entirely innaccurate retelling of the time Sera and the Inquisitor had fought a bear. 

Sera, in turn, found the papers returned with a note pinned to them. 

The note had a drawing of a bear on it, one of more realistic proportions than the one in Sera's drawings, and a quick sketch of the Inquisitor's profile, and Sera's own. 

_Very creative,_ the note read. _Lively and enjoyable. But perhaps study real life counterparts closer? ...maybe not the bear. Have had enough problems with bears._

Sera laughed, in spite of herself. 

She kept the note. 

iii.

“Him? Ugh, he's so boring—all stuffy and preachy, no fun or colors or anythin'!” Sera's voice came trailing over the balcony to Dorian's little alcove of the library, and he looked up from his book. Sera usually never came anywhere near here. 

“Mm, that is certainly true," Solas agreed. "And whenever he used colors he seemed to have no concept of color theory...”

“Color what?”

“How the colors work together.”

Dorian blinked, then tilted his head. He could not _possibly_ be hearing Solas and Sera having a civil conversation. 

“Ugh, all those rich pricks dunno how to do anythin' properly—they think they can just dump some purples and blues on a canvas and say it's good just 'cos the paints cost money!”

“Well, of course—you _have_ been to Val Royeaux. Their grasp of color goes beyond 'garish' and into 'appalling.'”

There was Sera's distinctive cackle, and Dorian had to peer over the balcony. 

“The whole place is so _ugly_!” Sera exclaimed. “You seen them paintings they have, right? You seen the ladies--”

“--who have all clearly been painted by men who used only male models?” Solas said.

“Yeah, that! They all have tits that looked like dented pears that were nailed on!” Sera snorted. 

Dorian narrowed his eyes. He spotted Sera's blonde head and those were definitely Solas' distinctive dark dreadlocks, so it apparently _was_ the two elves having a discussion about art instead of bickering with each other like normal. 

Dorian pulled back, shaking his head. Apparently the world really _was_ coming to an end.


End file.
